


Misery Loves its Company

by mademoisellebianx



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Horror, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Childhood Memories, Dark Comedy, Denial of Feelings, Dubious Morality, Dysfunctional Family, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, M/M, Mental Instability, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29918703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mademoisellebianx/pseuds/mademoisellebianx
Summary: "I've already told you the story. Now, tell me, how do you think can a snake and a mongoose co-exist in one cage?"- - -After a series of unfortunate events, Clancy Jarvis decided to accept his friend's cameraman job offer in a desperate attempt to kick-start a new chapter in his life. His decision, however, proved to be the worst one he's ever made his entire life when he and his new colleagues find themselves venturing in the haunted house in Dulvey, Louisiana. Turned into an unwilling captive and participant in a nuthouse full of traps and unspeakable horrors, Clancy was determined to survive every single challenge given to him by the crazy family that trapped him in there. Little did he know that he's piqued the curiosity and interest of a sociopathic genius hellbent in keeping him in the house with him.
Relationships: Lucas Baker/Clancy Jarvis
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	Misery Loves its Company

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic has been living rent free in my mind for three years now so it's humongous. What started as a joke one shot my best friend and I thought of while playing 21 in Banned Footage turned into this whole thing.
> 
> I hope y'all like it! :)
> 
> Sorry for the grammatical and spelling errors you'll encounter in this fic - English isn't my first language and I didn't have this fic beta'd as well.

Clancy Jarvis wakes up at the annoyingly incessant high-pitched sounds coming from his cellphone. He recognizes the tune easily - it’s his alarm. 

The dark haired man groans as he squints his eyes open; an involuntary response from hearing the alarm. He immediately regrets doing this because once he does so, he gets blinded by the rays of sun that greet him and he instantly feels symptoms of a terrible hangover. 

Last night, he drank himself stupid in a bar just a few blocks away from his apartment because he was let go from his latest day job. Granted, it was just a monotonous and boring customer service job that he never once enjoyed, but it paid well and helped him with his bills. He was supposed to quit that job when his music career finally took off, but shit happened and he, along with several fellows who were just as unlucky as he was, was fired on the spot, without warning or precedence. 

_Beep…beep...beep…beep…_

“Okay, I get it already…” Clancy whines, sounding more like a teenager rather than a middle-aged man. He fumbles on the empty side of his bed for his phone. He refuses to open his eyes again and worsen the pounding headache he’s already sporting. If only he had turned the damn thing off before going to bed. After a few unsuccessful attempts, Clancy finally takes a hold of the noisy device and turns the alarm off with ease. The blessed silence that follows afterwards is satisfying. 

Throwing his sheets over his head, Clancy gets back to sleep; allowing himself to put his anxieties on hold for now, even just for a few hours. 

. . . . .

It's already dusk the next time Clancy opens his eyes. His room has been shrouded by the comforting and familiar blue and violet colors of the early night. Having been able to rest, his head no longer hurts as much as it did that morning, but he still feels sluggish and a bit nauseous. 

Despite sleeping the whole day, he still feels like shit.

 _‘God, I’m really getting old, aren’t I?’_ Clancy muses, much to his chagrin. He really should not have drank that much alcohol last night and he reallys should not have spent that much money too.

He grabs his phone, checking if he missed any calls or text messages while he was sleeping. There is none - as expected. Clancy has always been an unsociable man and he had always kept to himself ever since he’s left his hometown, so he barely had any close friends who would text or call him. He also changed his cellphone number years ago so his old friends can’t contact him. His family, on the other hand, would never contact him even if they knew his new number or not. Clancy thinks that they believe he’s already dead and maybe he prefers it that way.

After checking his inbox and call logs, Clancy opens the YouTube app to check how his music channel is doing. He checks his notifications, his direct messages and then scrolls down to each and every one of his uploaded videos to check how many views they garnered in the past hours. This is routine for him and he does this almost robotically. 

As usual, there has been nothing new. There are a few nice comments here and there and a few rude and uncalled for ones as well - he welcomes all of them - but his subscriber count remains to be a few hundred people for two months now and the number of views of his videos is still stagnant, and barely reaches even just a few thousand nowadays. He could blame that on YouTube’s new algorithm. Smaller channels like his own don't get much attention as they used to six years ago when he first created his account, because YouTube prioritizes promoting already popular channels they deemed profitable more than unknown ones. 

Clancy knows he’s talented enough. He might not be self-assured about anything in his life, but he most definitely is with his music. His singing voice, as he was once told, isn’t half-bad and the original songs he’s written isn’t too shabby; but he does lack charisma and his insecurities regarding his physical attributes could be a hindrance and could be a factor why his music career is still a no-go. 

“Guess I’ll have to look for a new job tomorrow, huh?” Clancy murmurs as he sets down his phone to stare at the empty ceiling above him. A heavy feeling in his gut is starting to build up. He stays as he is, still as a statue while pondering to pass his time by.

The night is very much still young and he could go out and take a walk in the busy streets of Baltimore, grab something to eat and get coffee to help his lingering hangover. Or maybe, he can rehearse for his performance the following afternoon in the open mic session he’s signed into a few weeks ago in the bar he just recently got drunk into.

With the deafening silence that surrounds him, Clancy easily hears the loud gurgling in his stomach. That’s when he realizes that he has not eaten a single meal since last night. That quickly solves his dilemma. 

Before leaving his apartment room to take a quick stroll out and order some crab cakes to-go, Clancy hits the shower; not wanting to reek of alcohol and sweat when he goes out. 

He puts on a simple white shirt and a pair of faded jeans then ties his long, wavy dark brown mane of hair in a neat and casual ponytail and finally sets off.

Clancy ordered lobster mac n’ cheese and crab cakes in his favorite resto diner that was about a fifteen-minute walk from his place. He planned to order only the crab cakes on his way there but he was famished when he arrived. 

Quietly, he waits for his food to be served to him. The diner is pretty busy and packed, which is understandable since he got there during dinner rush. Clancy shrinks back against his seat, sighing. Living on his own, Clancy usually eats alone but somehow, he still finds it awkward and he feels really uncomfortable doing it in public. He sticks like a sore thumb whenever he eats on his own in crowded restaurants so he prefers taking his food to-go. It’s ridiculous, and he knows this, but he feels like people stare.

Clancy feels self-conscious all of a sudden, wondering - and immediately overthinking - what to do with his hands or where to put them. He places his hands on the table, tapping on the surface rhythmically before putting them in the pockets of his pants. Maybe he should just pull out his phone and pretend - 

“Clancy? Clancy Jarvis from Franklin High School?” 

A masculine voice calling his name pulls Clancy out of his thoughts, cutting off his senseless train of thoughts much to his relief. He looks up to find who it was who called his name just now and he finds a familiar - well, a _very_ familiar - face staring at him.

“Stickman?” The name slips out his mouth before he can think properly. He hasn’t uttered that nickname since high school graduation. His voice trembled and he sounded way too excited when he spoke. The name was an inside joke between him and their other friends back in the day - their former teacher misread Andre's name in their first day in middle school because the poor old lady forgot her glasses then - and it stuck like an old habit. Seeing the blonde-haired man grinning at his recognition, Clancy laughs heartily before standing from his seat and hugging his old friend from high school.

Andre Stickland may have had gotten his dark blonde locks from high school and styled neatly in place with pomade, but Clancy still recognizes those bright cerulean pair of eyes and that stupid grin from anywhere. Plus, Clancy had been a little bit in love with him in high school so it’s impossible for him to forget him.

Andre embraces him in return and Clancy ignores that his heart skips a beat the moment he does so. “How the hell have you been, buddy?” Andre laughs, “Still singing with your guitar and capturing epic moments with your camera?” He squeezes Clancy’s shoulder as they release each other from the hug.

“Still singing, yes,” Clancy nods his head in affirmation. He doesn’t elaborate, not willing to share that his dreams are still out of his reach. “And sometimes I still make videos…” He said, thinking of the amateur videos he has over his YouTube channel. Wanting to transfer the spotlight to Andre, Clancy asks him, “What’re you doing here, Andre?” 

“Just for leisure. Vacation and chilling, you know what I mean?” Andre replies, “Shit, invite me to sit with you for a while, will you? I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Hey, man, I wouldn’t wanna steal and hog you away from your hot date,” Clancy replies, jokingly as he shrugs in a parody of innocence. 

“As a matter of fact, Clancy Jarvis, my girlfriend is in our room in the hotel right now, busy discussing stuff I will never understand with her clients over Skype so I’m allowed to chill with you for a while...well, that is until I get my order.” 

Hearing that Andre is in a relationship doesn’t surprise Clancy. He was popular with the girls and even the boys looks-wise in high school. Plus, not only was he extremely attractive, he was also super smart and charismatic and kind - he’s a package deal. He’s gotten older now, just like Clancy, but he is lucky enough to be one of those few people who got even more handsome as they got older. 

Clancy smiles, pleased to hear what Andre had said. After having gotten the confirmation that he wouldn’t be spending time with his friend at the expense of other people, he gestures towards the seat opposite to his. Once seated, Andre proceeds to ask Clancy what he’s been up to for the past few years. “I bet you’ve been promoted from assistant to manager in your family’s hardware and repair shop, huh?” 

It takes all of Clancy’s willpower to keep his face as neutral as possible as his friend mentions his family back in Seattle. He laughs lightly, shaking his head as he replies, “No, no...that job isn’t meant for me…” 

That’s one hell of a can of worms he would never want to bring out, much less open. He could only hope that Andre didn’t hear the slight nervous tremble in his voice just now. He knows Andre has absolutely no clue what happened between Clancy and his family and what was the reason that they cut him off completely from their lives, and Clancy wants to keep it that way. It’s not like he’s afraid Andre would judge him because he wouldn’t - Andre isn’t that sort of person - Clancy just doesn’t want to pity him or hate his family. 

“I left Seattle after high school and never looked back. I wanted a fresh start and I wanted to create a new version of myself - as cliche as that is,” Clancy continues. He is technically telling Andre the truth, just keeping some very important details to himself. “I jumped from one state to another, doing a different job every time I moved, and I never got to find the place to settle down to. I was so busy reinventing myself that I ended up having no time to contact my family…”

“I get what you mean, man…” Andre replies with a nod. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice how quickly Clancy jumps to self-justification the moment he mentions his family, or if he did, he doesn’t mention it. Andre adds, “My job as a producer requires me to travel all the time so I can empathize.”

A waitress approaches their table, serving them a cool glass of water each. Andre takes this opportunity to order food for himself and his girlfriend to-go. Clancy, who is now feeling self-conscious for blabbering too much, tries to hide his shame by taking a sip from the newly-served glass of water.

“So what do you do now? Here in Baltimore?” Andre asks as soon as the waitress leaves them and at the exact moment, Clancy has set the glass he was drinking from back down on the table. 

“I actually just got fired from my customer service job…” Sheepishly, Clancy replies. He hesitates before adding, cringing as he does, “...yesterday.”

“Oh, shit,” Andre whispers. “That sucks. I’m so sorry.”

Concern flitting in his bright eyes, Andre makes a face that tells Clancy that he immediately regrets asking him that particular question. Andre shouldn’t feel that way because Clancy doesn’t mind having to talk about him losing his job. So, Clancy casually tries to brush this off, telling him, “Hey, it’s a fair question, Stickman,” he shrugs his shoulder, “It was their loss, anyway.” 

The waitress who just served them their water comes back, carrying Clancy’s order of mac n’ cheese and crab cakes. This gives Andre a moment to shake off the small guilt that lightly took hold of him when he brought up the job topic. 

Clancy stares at his food. He forgot to tell them that he wanted his dinner to-go. Then again, he doesn’t mind eating it now, since he isn’t alone anymore. Also, he’s starving. 

Andre, thinking that Clancy means to wait until he receives his order before eating, tells him, “Go on and eat, Clancy. I have to go after I get our dinner, anyway…”

“Okay, if you insist.” 

“So…” Andre starts as he taps his fingers against the table. He pauses, hesitating and then pondering as Clancy begins eating. “...I just had a brilliant idea.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“By any chance, have you ever heard of the Sewer Gators?” 

Clancy nods his head, not raising his head to look at his friend as he does because he was busy chowing down his dinner. He’s heard of it, but he really hasn’t watched a single episode of the internet documentary series. Shows about strange sightings and paranormal activities are not really Clancy’s cup of tea because he’s a complete skeptic regarding these sorts of stuff. The show has been running for two years now, he knows, so obviously a lot of people must be enjoying it. 

“I’m actually the producer of that show,” Andre said, “And it just so happens that we need a cameraman.”

This finally gets Clancy to look up at Andre. He blinks before asking him, “Are you...Are you offering me a job?”

“It would be just like when we were in high school, Clancy! Remember all those videos we made, those dumb short films and skits we shot with your badass camera skills?” Andre beams widely, reminiscing, “What do you say?” 

“I...I don’t know, Andre…” Clancy mutters. He hasn’t shot a single video in months. How can he pass up as a professional in a popular internet series when all the videos he’s uploaded in the past are just of him singing with his face not in the angle and video logs of his travels and walks? “I’m pretty rusty,” he said, hoping that Andre doesn’t see how unconvinced he was that he can do it. 

“At least think about it, okay?”

Just as soon as Clancy opens his mouth to express more doubts in his abilities as a cameraman, the waitress arrives with Andre’s order in a doggy bag. 

“Well, it was nice seeing you again, Clancy,” Andre said, standing to take the doggy bag from the waitress. “Diana’s gonna kill me if I don’t get back to the hotel as soon as I get our dinner, so I gotta go.” Contrary to what he just said, Andre doesn’t go just yet. He fumbles at the pockets of his pants, looking for something.

“It was great to see, Stickman.”

The way his friend’s nickname slips from his tongue feels so natural. Clancy almost forgot how nice it feels to be so intimate and familiar and comfortable with another individual.

Finally, Andre pulls out his wallet and takes a small piece of rectangular hard paper out of it. He offers it to Clancy. Clancy then takes one fleeting look at it before taking it from his friend. On it, ‘Andre Stickland’ was written in capital letters on the center in a chunky, easily readable font and below the written name was his cellphone number, email address and what seems to be the uniform resource locator of Sewer Gators’ website.

“Promise you’ll text me or call me once you’ve given my offer a bit of thinking, all right?” 

What sort of friend would Clancy be if he turns Andre down right now, especially when the brown-haired man is looking at ihm in the eye with so much hope and expectation? 

“Okay, I promise.” 

* * *

What Clancy did first thing in the morning after eating breakfast and having his morning coffee was not look for a new job as he had promised himself that he’d do. He’d do just that, but he has a performance to practice and he also woke up far too late to be trying to look for a job. 

That morning, he woke up later than he wanted to, but that was because he stayed up late last night watching a few episodes of Sewer Gators to satisfy his own curiosity about the show. He wanted to see what Andre has been working on. The internet docuseries have sixteen episodes so far and each episode ran for two hours and thirty minutes. He was able to watch two whole episodes last night on his laptop while on his bed before falling fast asleep. 

The open mic session in the bar, Fahrenheit 451, later that day will start at five in the afternoon. It’s already ten-thirty in the morning and Clancy has yet to decide what son he’ll be singing. Cover songs were allowed in this particular session so choosing a song became harder. He knows that he should have decided as soon as he signed up for the damn thing, but he procrastinated, forgot about it and got busy with his now _ex_ -day job. 

Clancy paces back and forth in the living room and kitchen of his one-bedroom apartment, his thoughts jumping from one song to another.

Maybe he should perform an original song tonight. However, performing an unknown and original composition is pretty tricky, although appreciated in open mic sessions. People gravitate more towards the familiar and Clancy prefers singing in front of an active crowd rather than a passive one so to guarantee a responsive crowd, he definitely should not sing an original song. But somehow, Clancy knows he should try to step out of his comfort zone tonight and finally share his music live and in front of a crowd of both sober and drunk people, and not just people who stumble upon his YouTube videos. 

“ _Shit_ -!” Clancy, now breathless from anxiously pacing about, mutters as he plops himself on the sofa. “So much for being confident in your music, loser…”

Resting his head against the back pillow, he lets out an exasperated sigh. This will take longer than he thought. He’s usually not like this - it used to take him only a minute or two to decide which songs he’ll perform in the gigs he’s played at before. Getting shitfaced a few nights before must have really fried his brain. Maybe luck just isn’t on his side, although he was pretty lucky to bump into Andre Stickland last night. 

Clancy’s shoulders jerk up in surprise as he feels his cellphone vibrating in the front pocket of his pajama pants. He fishes for his phone and sees that he has received a text message from Andre. Speak of the devil. Clancy remembers that he texted him last night as soon as he'd gotten back to his apartment, wanting to make sure if the number on Andre’s calling card was updated. Andre just now confirmed that it is indeed his recent cellphone number. 

Maybe he should invite him and his girlfriend - Andre mentioned that her name is Diana - over to Fahrenheit 451 to watch him perform. After all, Andre asked him about his music last night. 

Clancy starts typing away.

“ _Hey! Theres an open mic session in a bar called Fahrenheit 451 later @ 5 pm & ill be singing on stage. Idk how close u r from the place but would u & ur girlfriend like to come & watch me perform? I could really use the moral support :)_ ”

Clancy’s finger hovers over the send button, staring at the tiny thing on the screen of his phone like it’s something hideous. “Just send the damn text, Jarvis!” He scolds himself, rasping the words between clenched teeth. Yet, no matter how hard he tries to psyche himself up, his finger would not move.

“Dammit,” Clancy sighs, giving into whatever it is that’s stopping him from clicking that send button and erasing the entire message he just typed out instead. Surely, Andre has better things to do than watch an old friend’s mediocre singing, anyway. “I’ll invite them when I’m not being a complete idiot,” he tells himself, swearing it. He now has Andre’s contact number so he’ll be able to invite him some other time. 

Clancy spends a few more minutes psyching himself up. He really should play an original song tonight. 

He will sing an original tonight.

. . . . .

“One Cuba libre, please,” Clancy tells the bartender as he sets his guitar down beside his seat. He just finished his set and his throat feels like a desert. Maybe drinking alcohol before even having dinner is a bad idea but Clancy needs that sweet, sweet liquor in him. His trembling fingers are raw from all the guitar thrumming and the cold from the bar’s air conditioning. Despite being called Fahrenheit 451, it’s freezing inside. 

The bartender sets two coasters beside Clancy’s hand, placing a glass of water next before starting to prepare Clancy’s order. 

His performance wasn’t necessarily bad - he didn’t fuck up with his lyrics or notes and his voice didn’t crack in the middle of it all - but he sure as hell had better days. He knows he didn’t really impress the crowd with his lyrics and vocals. To be fair, he was the last one to go onstage so maybe the crowd must be already drunk or exhausted from the previous more energetic singers before him. 

Clancy scowls.

“Don’t worry, I think you did amazing,” someone tells him. Clancy doesn’t recognize the voice and he looks up to see who it was. Glancing then, he meets the bartender’s dark eyes. Immediately, Clancy feels his face heat up. The other man lightly smiles while he places the glass of rum and cola beside the glass of water he’s already served Clancy, his fingers ever so slightly brushing against Clancy’s as he did. Clancy’s heart skips a beat at that.

To hide his dumb awkwardness, Clancy lets out a nervous chuckle and jokes, “Oh, fuck, did I look that down?”

“No, no...I just wanted to tell you that you’re really good, that’s all!” The bartender explains, “It’s obvious that wasn’t your first rodeo.”

“It wasn’t, yeah. I also occasionally perform in front of my YouTube subscribers…”

“Ah, a YouTuber has graced us with his presence, I see!”

He hasn’t seen this particular bartender before. Clancy would have remembered him if he did, because this man, dark-skinned with an angular and sharp jaw, deep black eyes and short curly raven hair, isn’t the type to be forgotten by anyone. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” Clancy asks, trying to look like he was gawking or anything.

“Yeah, I just got hired last week. Tonight is actually my first day at work here on Fahrenheit 451.”

He has a New Yorker accent, Clancy just noticed. 

“You’re Clancy Jarvis, right? Name’s Luke,” The bartender - Luke - said with a slight nod towards the nameplate pinned on his chest. He laughs, adding, “Just like the Star Wars guy.”

Clancy smiles. 

He has never seen a single Star Wars movie his entire life, but he wouldn’t tell this man that. People always give him a lot of shit whenever he mentions not having watched those silly space movies in his big age of thirty and then they won’t talk to him anymore. He wants to keep talking to Luke.

“How are you finding working at F451 so far, Star Wars guy?” Clancy asks, taking a sip of his order before he can sound too flirty or desperate. His heart is beating a thousand miles an hour and it’s all because of that handsome smile plastered on the face of the man standing before him.

He really shouldn’t keep his hopes up. For all he knows, Luke is just talking to him out of pity because he must have looked like he was about to cry about his recent performance. He might not even like men the way Clancy does. 

“It’s fun so far. I’m enjoying it, but the night is still young so who knows?” Luke answers, shrugging. “I love meeting new people, listening to their stories, that’s why I chose a career in bartending. And tonight, I really haven’t met anyone who piqued my interest…” He continues, his eyes bearing down into Clancy. His grin widens slightly, exposing his pearly white teeth as he did. Then in a softer and somewhat sensual voice, he adds, “...well, until _you_ showed up.”

Clancy doesn’t know how to respond to that. “ _Oh_ ,” was the only sound he was able to utter.

No man has flirted with him in forever so he has absolutely no idea what to do or to say or how to react, even.

Luke seems determined and sincere, which is flattering for Clancy but mostly surprising. He’s obviously Clancy’s type but he never would have thought that he was his. Although he himself knows that he isn’t entirely hideous, he isn’t really a looker like this fellow before him. It feels like it’s unfair for Luke, no matter how much Clancy wants to reciprocate.

“Hey, I’m glad to hear that, man,” is a dumb counter for someone flirting with you. Clancy knew that, and yet, that’s the shit that he decided to say, anyway. He quickly regrets it the second he flicks his eyes back towards the bartender. Luke doesn’t hide his disappointment and embarrassment that’s brought about by Clancy’s answer, interpreting it as disinterest and dismissal. And who can blame him that he does?

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Clancy,” Luke said, showing Clancy what one might call a professional smile - the one smile that he has definitely practiced putting on and has mastered over the years of customer service and dealing with god knows how many people. “I’ll be sure to look up your YouTube channel after work…” 

In fear of fucking things up even more than he already has, Clancy simply nods his head. He couldn’t look at him in shame. There’s no way he can say anything to improve this situation he’s put himself into, and there is no one else to blame but his stupid self. 

Luke moves away now to other customers at the bar counter without as much as a backward glance at Clancy. 

Gingerly, Clancy holds on to the glass of rum and coke, now half-empty, and stares at the dark, fizzy liquid inside of it. His chest tightens. He feels like he should go.

His fingers twitch.

Already, he longs for the fingers that secretly - yet ever so bravely - caressed his own just a few moments ago. Clancy takes one more look at the bartender who is in the middle of a conversation with a sweet couple in their late thirties. 

After just one drink, Clancy decides to call it a night. The barstool creaks against the paved floor as he pushes it back, standing. The motion also knocks his guitar from its place. And as if his night couldn’t get any worse, Clancy loses his balance while trying to pick the damn thing up. He hears a loud and sharp snap and next thing he knows, he finds his right foot crushing the neck of his guitar. 

“Fuck…”

“ _Fuck_!” Clancy hisses in the privacy of his dark bedroom. He gasps for breath, waiting for his racing heart to slow down while his body recovers from his self-induced orgasm. He goes straight to the shower once he catches his breath. 

He thought about Luke and his tantalizing deep eyes and his beautiful face and his New Yorker accent when he jerked himself off a few minutes ago. When was the last time he touched himself before this? It’s been so long ago. Granted, this recent jack-off was quick, but it was absolutely one Clancy felt like he needed.

However, the pleasure from his climax was short-lived as it gets replaced by shame and guilt. His face burns up and he starts scrubbing at his skin profusely as the warm water blasted from his showers. Now, he remembers why he doesn’t do that more often - he always ends up feeling like shit afterwards. 

He heads to bed afterwards and suddenly, it feels a lot bigger than it normally was as he flops himself on it. This only makes Clancy more conscious of how utterly alone and terribly lonely he is. 

He finds himself staring at the ceiling again. 

The past few days have been horrible, and if he were as he was before, he’d leave Baltimore. But he knows he isn’t as young as he used to be. He can’t just pack his things, move to another city and reinvent himself again the way he did in the past whenever he hits this kind of all-time low. On top of all that, he can’t afford it. It’s not like he wasn’t able to save money from his previous job, he did but he has rent to pay in the next few days and he only has enough to keep himself afloat for a while as he looks for a new job. He also has to replace his old guitar now after foolishly breaking its neck beyond repair.

He needs a job and a fucking vacation.

Clancy sits up from his bed, something in his mind clicking.

He could accept Andre’s job offer and he can work as a cameraman for that Sewer Gators show. Andre did mention that working as their producer entailed leaving to travel a lot. Not only will he have a job but he can also get a chance to step away from the city stress for a while, distract himself from the lingering loneliness that visits him from time to time. 

Quickly, he looks for his phone, calling Andre before he could give himself enough time to second guess this.

“Clancy?”

From the way he answered his phone, Clancy just knows that his friend is smiling on the other side of the line. He could easily picture it, like Andre is just standing right in front of him.

“Hey, Andre, good evening,” Clancy said, sheepishly. He’s really going to do this, isn’t he? “Is that cameraman job you mentioned last night still up for grabs?”

**Author's Note:**

> For Andre's last name, I decided to follow Resident Evil wiki and used "Stickland" instead of "Strickland". 
> 
> Clancy's music career dream in this fanfic was inspired by me seeing pictures of his very handsome face model playing guitar. 
> 
> I have only traveled in the US for a few times in the past so please forgive me for any inaccuracies regarding the cities, the food and the whole vibe of the places mentioned in this chapter and the following chapters to come.
> 
> You can find me [here](https://mademoisellebianx.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


End file.
